


All Water Has Perfect Memory

by EmilyElm



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bottom!Hanni, F/M, Hannigram b/c of course, Lots of mind-palace schtuff, M/M, Most other characters are mentioned, Mother of dragon/dragon baby, Post-Season Finale, Post-TWOTL, Surfing for Will b/c that mind, Will's going a little cray, Yoga - for Hanni b/c that ego
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 12:08:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5455997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilyElm/pseuds/EmilyElm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just as the boys are settling into a nice routine in Belize, Reba reaches out to them in various ways to let them know some news.  Hannibal is shocked to discover the connection she has with Will in his mind palace and he fears that the worst awaits for them if Will ultimately gets what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Water Has Perfect Memory

Sweat trails down the curve of his neck as he twists more into the pose. “More” being questionable as he slowly realizes that he can’t manipulate his body any deeper. The truth is he had wrapped his legs around Will’s waist last night and let him do whatever he felt. For hours. And this morning he expected to go to the meditation healing center at the edge of a Belizean beach and teach yoga before guiding a handful of wealthy, overworked A-types into a peaceful blank within their mid-life crisis. He can barely move beyond the ache that is actually much deeper than on a physical plane. He contemplates on that for a moment. His feelings for Will. Never in a million years did he expect to find himself in a place where they call “whipped”. But his state of whipped certainly applies. 

 

He has felt emotions over the past 9 months that he has no right to feel. That most, if he were still under Alana’s microscope, would deem impossible. He’s felt fear, of course, that they would be found. Not at the fight that would come, but in his fear of losing Will when they had finally lived as one. Ecstasy of the purest form. Desperation – is there a possibility that they could somehow get closer? And if he admitted it to himself, he had been so depressed before Will returned to him. Every day had been a fight to stay present in the hopes that Will would stop denying his feelings for him. Because there has been such a delay on his emotional musculature, he would dare to say that he feels these things even more acutely. 

 

Hannibal snakes his way through the maze of yoga mats to make the necessary adjustments to the bodies around him. He is amused that he is now doing physical manipulation, but he does bring his brand of psychobabble into the mix once he pulls them out of the meditative state. The irony of being a yoga instructor doesn’t escape him. But yogis are amongst some of the most narcissistic people he’s ever met. It’s not just the physical perfection they strive for, but the desire to be the one to lead the others to enlightenment. Well, they have more in common with Hannibal than they care to admit. It was a natural fit, and as usual, his expertise drew a huge clientele and now the owner of the healing center wanted him to consult on the expansion of these centers into other countries. Staying under the radar is a feat into itself. He didn’t need this added worry.

 

But it is his own fault. Hannibal had wanted the work so as not to stifle Will in their isolation. Despite being the more infamous figure, Hannibal is still able to blend in. The majority of the island ex-pats and healing center students are Europeans, and with his long hair and ever-present yoga attire, very few alarms go off about his identity. 

 

Will, on the other hand, is a problem. His facial scars draw second-glances and sometimes questions. He looks menacing and uneasy in public. He is a man that people will have entire dinner conversations around if they run across him at the wrong moment. Hannibal didn’t want Will to take any job, had insisted he stay close to home, but Will discovered that Jack had taken to goading him on Tattlecrime.com and something had to give.

 

When they first arrived in Belize, Will discovered surfing and he excelled enough in the water that he now considers himself a surfer. Will had wandered onto a surfing school at the edge of pier and took a lesson for shits and giggles. He found that he could stop thinking when he rode a wave. Getting out of his head for a few hours a day was just the relief he needed. As long as he has a wetsuit and Hannibal, he’s happy. 

 

Hannibal steals a glance at the ocean to see if he can spy Will in the water. The waves are especially high today. He has to admit that he’s had his fill of the ocean. He can still feel the sting of saltwater in his gunshot wound. 

 

The only downside to Will’s surfing streak is how it gets him out of their cabin early in the morning. Instead of spending the morning with Hannibal, Will is surrounded by surfers who remind Hannibal of rough trade, that unwashed Nicholas Boyle type who drew the rich tourists into a local fling for their vacation stay. Will is tan, thin, athletic and in the prime of his life. It takes every ounce of his being not to follow him down to the beach and consider the dinner selection for the day. 

 

He rouses the class out of the meditation to his mantra for the day: “Reach for the note in between what you played.” The gong of the healing center sounds once, twice, and then the students scurry off to their next class. 

 

Several linger to talk, needing time to process what rage surfaced during the meditation, needing therapy. This is what makes the class so popular, the time Hannibal spends putting these restless minds at ease. Even with the sun and the sand and the clear air around them, the existential crises never cease. Hannibal uses this time for his own reflections about the loneliness and confusion he faced when he was institutionalized (without telling them he was institutionalized, of course). He had thought his world had ended before seeing Will there (hoping he would come every day) and the prospect of him leaving (once he laid eyes on him). He still could not fathom how Will had actually walked away from him so cruelly. So to add to the list of firsts, he is actually empathizing with everyday folks. It stuns him.

 

Hannibal is biding time, to avoid the owner, and on some level, to avoid Will. Last night, Jack had posted another appeal to Will, this time from Dolarhyde’s girlfriend, Reba. It’s smart to appeal to Will’s empathy, his sense of responsibility as… the new Dragon, and therefore, Hannibal’s own possessiveness.

 

And so Hannibal does something unforgiveable as he walks home from his class and peeks into Will’s mind palace. They share the same space now, drifting from place to place and catching up where there have been gaps. But they usually do even this exploration together. Hannibal pretends that this stroll will be no different. 

 

In the mind palace, Hannibal discovers a hospital room where Reba sits in a bed, sucking on ice. Standing away from Will, who stares down at her hungrily, he picks up that Will is thinking of him, even here. Will has always been able to empower any victim and this case is no different. But he sees how often Will touches her. This is sexual. Not quite a flirtation, but Will is already slipping into some aspects of the Dragon. Remembering how on their first date Reba went down on him. Will reaches for Reba, again, as she pulls the ice out of her mouth. It is intimate, especially when he hears Will declare that they have so much in common. 

Curious, Hannibal moves further through Will’s mind palace and discovers him pressed to the motel room floor against Dolarhyde’s crotch. They grind against each other as Will fights against being drugged, but this too is sexual in Hannibal’s eyes. Will had spent time in the Dragon’s embrace so shortly after he left Hannibal in the hospital, hopeless. It is not comforting. Will, lately, has admitted to how much he still thinks of the Dragon. Francis replacing the haunting as his new Garrett Jacob Hobbs. If he is this connected to Francis, then he will be drawn to discover if Reba, as Jack claims, is worried about him. 

 

Hannibal hurries through the winding hall, almost sidetracked by the sight of the entrance to Will’s house that he shared with Molly and Walter. He had not dared venture there. It may as well be marked Private Entry for Will Graham Only. So he takes a peek, pushing the door open and stepping inside. 

 

Molly looks over, smiling. 

 

“You’re home,” she says, relieved.

 

A grunt. Hannibal can’t even bear to watch Will leaning into kiss her. Hannibal stands in for Will and the kiss lands on his own cheek. Hannibal brushes past her quickly, hanging up his Will’s coat and hat. 

 

“So you’re going to be like that?” she snaps. “You’ve been gone for days, Will. Where do you go – “

He can hear footsteps approaching. Will’s footsteps.

 

He rushes quickly through the maze to the more common areas of their shared mind palace space and finds Will at the entrance, his brows furrowed in a confused line. Hannibal takes in the long curls pressed wet against his scalp, how he’s shrugged off half the wetsuit and let his sculpted torso hang out.

 

“Where do you go when I’m not here?” Will is asking and Hannibal reaches for him, grabbing the flesh along the smile he left along his stomach. 

 

Hannibal pulls him out of their mind palace with a kiss. Will laughs against Hannibal’s mouth when Hannibal catches sight that he’s managed to wiggle the rest of the way out of his wetsuit. He pouts against Hannibal until he returns to the kiss and then throws him onto the couch. Hannibal crawls onto Will’s body, kissing his feet, knees, the inside of his thighs, the flesh of his balls, the irresistible scar on his stomach. He hears Will sigh, hoping Will is forgetting what he was asking. He can’t bear to think of what answer he’d come up with anyway.

 

Hannibal has rested his cheek against the Dragon’s scar on Will’s chest and slowly finds Will’s steely gaze. Will holds his look for the moment it takes to find what he’s looking for. “Hannibal.”

 

Will cups Hannibal’s face in his hand. “What is rearranging all the furniture in your head?” 

 

Totally demanding, his Will. “You said her name in your sleep last night.”

 

“Reba’s?” Will asks, automatically. For the first time, Hannibal wishes he’d said Molly’s name instead. 

 

“You are not the Dragon,” Hannibal insists. “You know who you are.”

 

“Yes. But…” Will gazes up at him, “the Dragon is a part of me.”

 

Hannibal searches his face. Now that he has Will, he doesn’t want anything to interfere with what they have. He doesn’t want anything to consume Will. Not even himself. But Will has never been the most stable. And despite the surf and the safety and the clear air they’ve found here, it is not enough. Will is still changing. And it is fascinating to behold what he has yet to become. 

 

“I see him, still,” Will confesses. “Picking her up from the bus stop, taking her to work. We should be taking care of her, as he would want us to.”

 

“That’s what Jack would have you believe,” Hannibal intones, ready to put a stop to this. “it’s a trap and she’s being used to bait you.”

 

“I want to go to her,” Will admits.

 

“I know,” Hannibal has already played it out in his mind. So many dragons will be waiting for them. Francis’ ghost included. But he could never deny Will anything that he wanted now. “She will run to Jack the moment you contact her.”

 

“I know,” Will states, simply. “But she won’t know who you are. We'll save her and kill them all.” He's smiling, but Hannibal's not.

 

“If you’re compromised, I’m compromised.”

 

Will is silenced by that. He reaches out for Hannibal’s face to get him to understand, to get him to see. Hannibal is shaking his head – he won’t allow this. 

 

“Why do you want to go to her, Will?” 

 

“She has had the Dragon’s child,” Will counters. “They should be with us, Hannibal.”

 

Hannibal tilts his head, considering this. “How do you know this?”

 

Will draws him over to the laptop and pulls up an email. A birth announcement from Reba. Adele McClane is 6 pounds, 5 ounces. 

Reba writes: “I don’t know if you will see this, but I wanted you to know the choices I made were because you told me I was strong enough to do this. She’s healthy. But when I’m honest, Will, I could use some help. It’s purely selfish of me to ask that you two meet, but I’d love for you to meet her.”

 

There’s a picture attached of mother and child. Adele looks just like Francis Dolarhyde. The little patches of hair on her head are brown and straight. The prominent nose. The surgery for the harelip is healing nicely. 

 

Will wraps his arms around Hannibal’s neck and sighs again. “Come with me, my love,” Will asks. 

 

And against all rational thought, Hannibal considers giving up everything they have and returning to America, where they’re sure to be caught. 

 

And he nods yes.


End file.
